


Green

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Confession, Does John need a break?, Explicit Sexual Content, Honesty, Is it a date?, Jealousy, John Has Fun, Love, M/M, Series 1ish, Sherlock Reacts, Sherlock Worries, fight, no case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since John moved in, he and Sherlock have spent most of their time on cases. When a break in work arises, Sherlock thinks he'll enjoy some time alone but he's surprised to find that's not quite what happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Break

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. We've got a back catalogue of 100 stories, so feel free to get lost within them. In 2016, we'll be slowing the pace a little, but we hope we've got enough to keep you entertained in between postings. **We hope you'll subscribe.**
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside.

Sherlock and John had just finished a case, and after having taken so much time off work, John was finally back at the surgery. This meant that Sherlock was in charge of the flat for the next eight hours. Which he quite liked the thought of.

He certainly didn't regret inviting John to be his flatmate. Or his colleague. Or his friend, if he had to admit it (which he didn't, so he never had). John was quite clever and interesting and, again Sherlock probably wouldn't say this aloud either, John was fun.

But John was also very different. He liked being social -- he liked going out and meeting new people and doing things with new people, some of whom were women he'd probably like to bed. Sherlock did not like any of those things. He would be happy if John Watson were the last new person he ever had to meet. But he knew that, after all this time of being together almost constantly, John probably needed to be around other people. He could do that at work, and Sherlock could be on his own here in the flat. It was the perfect arrangement really.

At work, though, John was being shouted at.

"John, I had to do it. For crying out loud, you fell asleep at your desk the one day you were here! I can't keep seeing all these people on my own," Sarah said.  
  
John nodded. "No, I understand that. I do. It's just...Sherlock knows that this work is important to me as well so there won't be any more trouble."  
  
Sarah crossed her arms and raised her brows skeptically.  
  
"I mean, there won't be as much trouble," he corrected. But even still, he knew hiring another doctor was a good call. Now it would be easier to take off the days to work a case instead of trying to do both. Sarah was probably thinking that as well.  
  
John left her office and went to his own to start seeing patients, making a mental note to introduce himself to the new guy later during his lunch. He had to admit it was a nice addition. They were steady but not overwhelmingly busy. The time was passing quickly and Sarah seemed pleased.  
  
At lunch, he went by the new doctor's office, introducing himself and welcoming him to the building. He was pleasant and easy to talk to. By the time they were done with the polite small  
talk, they had plans to go out the next night. He'd just moved here and wanted to see what was going on. John felt like it would be a nice break, a relaxing night, so he agreed to show him.  
  
He went back to his office and finished his lunch, then started seeing patients and finishing paperwork. Before he left, he checked in with Sarah and told her that he approved of her hiring choice, making her laugh at the thought that John thought it mattered either way what he thought about it. On his way home he texted Sherlock.  
  
_Dinner? -JW_

Sherlock had spent his eight hours alone doing various things -- most of which were not all that productive, but at least took advantage of his isolation. He drank milk right out of the bottle, he smoked a number of cigarettes in the flat (windows open), and he walked naked from the shower to his bedroom, where he flopped onto the bed, lying there (still naked) for a while, just because he could. In truth, by the time John's text arrived, he was a little bit bored.

_What about it? SH_

_Do you want it? Should I pick something up for you? -JW_

_Bring me whatever you're having. Are you on your way home now? SH_

_Yes, I'll be there in a few minutes. -JW_

Sherlock looked around the flat, trying to decide what he felt like doing in his final few moments on his own. He glanced at John's bedroom door. He was not supposed to go in there unless John told him he could. He went up the stairs, pushed the door open, and stepped in. He looked around and then thought he heard the door downstairs, so he rushed back down, flopping onto the sofa to wait for John.

John walked up a few minutes later with a bag of Chinese food. He still marveled at the fact that he didn't need his cane. He almost couldn't believe it.

"Nothing," Sherlock said defensively as he sat up, before realising that John hadn't said anything yet. "Work okay?" he added, getting up and following John to the kitchen. 

"Yeah. Sarah hired another doctor, thanks to your shenanigans," John said, waving his arm at Sherlock teasingly.

"Right," Sherlock said. "Well, I've been busy as well. Just because you're not here to shout at me doesn't mean that I can no longer accomplish anything on my own." He scooped some food onto a plate and handed it to John and then used a fork to eat his out of the container.

"I brought you your own," John said as he watched. "But I'll just take it for lunch tomorrow. And I don't shout at you. What did you do all day?"

"This and that, bits and bobs," Sherlock said. "Just finished up a few projects -- I don't have to check with you on everything, do I?" he asked.

John rolled his eyes. "I was just curious since you were making such a fuss about everything you did." He looked at the container of food. "Actually I might leave that for you for tomorrow. I'll be going out after work."

"A date? What if we have a case?" Sherlock said. For some reason, the thought of John going out annoyed him a bit.

"Not a date. Just out for drinks," he said. "With the new guy at work, to get to know him and show him around."

"What new guy?" Sherlock asked, getting up to make some tea.

"The new doctor Sarah hired. I just told you about him."

"Right, sorry," Sherlock said. He looked over at John. "Sorry," he said again. "Thanks for bringing dinner," he added a bit awkwardly.

John looked over at him. "What are you apologising for?" he asked. Sherlock sounded a bit odd, but John didn't know why. He wasn't social, so he couldn't be upset about not being invited.

"I guess I wasn't listening when you were talking earlier . . . I guess because I was hungry," Sherlock said, making a little smile.

"Oh. Well, that's okay. I do that to you all the time," John grinned.

"What did you say?" Sherlock asked.

John shook his head, laughing softly. "Nothing."

"I heard you, you fool," Sherlock said. "You don't have a date tonight, do you?"

"Nope," John said. "Tea?"

"Here," Sherlock said, bringing two mugs to the table. "Look, I've got some reading to do for a bit -- do you want to watch a film before you go to bed? It's just seemed a bit ... odd without you around me today, I guess."

"Yeah, we can watch one," John said, feeling a bit sweet on Sherlock for missing him.

"Good, well, just don't start bossing me around, though," Sherlock said. "I didn't miss that..."

"I don't boss you," John said as he moved to the sofa.

Sherlock pulled a face at John. "Yes, you do," he said. "It's fine -- I'm getting used to it, but don't deny it." He smiled as he sat down in his chair.

"I do not boss you," John insisted.

"Fine," Sherlock said. "Even though insisting you don't is in and of itself a kind of control. . ." he mumbled under his breath, but he was still smiling.

John smiled and turned up the telly instead of replying.

Sherlock stared a bit stupidly at the television for a while. Eventually he was too bored so he had to speak. "Should I find us another case? I mean, do you want a break -- I'm sure I can find something to keep me busy -- but should I hold off on looking for something you could work on with me?"

"No, I would like another case," John said. "Now with the new guy I'll be able to take more time off to help." 

"You keep mentioning this new man -- is he suspicious? Do you want me to look into him?" Sherlock asked, only slightly teasing.

"What? No, I was just saying," he said.

"Well, just let me know if you think he's trouble . . ." Sherlock's voice trailed off. He looked over at John. "You should get a haircut, I think -- you're a bit shaggy."

John ran a hand through his hair. "What? I am not," he said.

"I'm not saying I find it objectionable, I'm just saying maybe that's why you don't have a date tonight," Sherlock explained. "Because you look a tramp." He lifted his mug to his mouth again even though he knew it was empty. "All right, if you don't want fashion tips, what do you want to talk about?"

"I didn't think we had to talk at all," John said. "That's not why. I could have."

"Fine," Sherlock said. "We don't have to talk." He sat there for a little while. "I guess I'll make some more tea." He stood up and moved to the kitchen. He felt a bit bored. "Do you want one?"

"Well, I didn't mean it like that," John said. "I don't really mind. Um, no, I don't want another cup, thanks."

Sherlock returned with his mug. "I guess we don't have much to talk about since there's no case. Should we watch a film or something? Or would you rather be on your own? I've got some reading I could do. . ." 

"We don't always have to talk about cases," John offered. He flipped through the channels to find something better to watch. "We can talk about..." He trailed off and thought for a moment. "How's your brother?"

Sherlock scowled. "Bad choice," he said. "It's okay. I don't know why I mentioned the talking." His eye caught something on the screen. "Stop on this one -- I saw an advert for it the other day. It's about a cold case murder. Let's solve it."

John smiled as he turned up the volume and put the remote on the table. "All right," he agreed.

Sherlock moved over to the sofa and got himself comfortable. When he thought he knew the answer, he smiled a little, but didn't give it away. At the end, he turned to look at John. "Well, did you figure it out?"

"Yes, I was way ahead of the announcer. Easy really," he smiled.

Sherlock looked over at John. "The ex wife?" he asked.

"Yes, my pick too," he said.

"She had a broken wrist, John," Sherlock said. "There's no way she could have done it. Have you learned nothing by working with me?" He tossed a cushion towards John, laughing a little.

"I meant whoever the announcer said," John said, laughing as he caught the pillow.

"He didn't say," Sherlock said. "I told you, it was a cold case -- unsolved." He laughed again. "Has your mind gone or something? Let me know and I'll hire your replacement."

John laughed loudly and threw the pillow back at Sherlock. "I was just trying not to show you up -- bit embarrassing as you're the detective,"

"Do I embarrass you, John?" Sherlock said, a little more seriously "I know I'm . . . unusual."

John's smile faltered a bit as he looked over and considered him. "No. I'm not embarrassed," he said.

"It's all right," Sherlock said. "I understand. I just . . . thought that, you know, we were. . . friends or whatever."

"We are -- Sherlock, I'm not embarrassed by you. Why do you think that?"

"No reason," Sherlock said. "Except you know . . . for the fact that you go on those dates all the time, but you're always meeting them elsewhere. You've been on eighteen dates since you moved in and I've barely met any of them."

John's brows furrowed. "The reason I go on dates has nothing to do with you, Sherlock. That's a quest for a different kind of relationship. And I don't bring them here because when they go out with a man they just met, women tend to prefer somewhere public. And they like being treated nicely, which is also easily done out."

"Are you saying I'm incapable of treating people nicely?" Sherlock asked.

"No. Don't twist my words."

"All right, settle down," Sherlock said. "I'm only teasing." He stretched. "Do you work tomorrow?" he asked in a yawn.

John watched him for a moment longer before nodding. "I do," he said.

"Fair enough," Sherlock said, standing up and stretching again. "Make sure I'm up before you leave -- I'll get to work on finding something to keep us busy."

"Okay," John said, flipping through the channels again. "Are you off to bed, then?"

"I think so -- I might read," Sherlock said, heading towards his room. "Thanks for dinner and everything."

"Sure," John said. "I'll be up a bit longer, but I'll keep the volume low."

Sherlock disappeared into his bedroom. He wasn't really very tired, but he got into his pajamas and lay down with a book. He looked at a page, but he wasn't really focusing. He thought about this evening and how it didn't feel quite as good as he'd hoped. Maybe he had been right, maybe their friendship was really just about the cases. Wasn't that really the only reason he'd invited John into his world -- after all, it was really that first case which brought them together. Maybe he'd just let himself get carried away with the friend business. He didn't want to think about it anymore so he tried to concentrate on his book.

John watched until he started dozing on the sofa. He packed away the food and made his way up to bed. Sherlock's question was nagging the back of his mind. He wondered if he had done something to make Sherlock feel that way, but he couldn't think of anything. He climbed into bed and put it out of his mind for now, making a final note to keep a closer eye on things.


	2. John And Nick

Sherlock got up a few times throughout the night, first to use the toilet then to make a cup of tea and then a second trip to the toilet. When he opened his eyes again, he heard John in the kitchen. He wrapped his dressing gown around him and went out. "You were supposed to wake me," he said, grumpily.

"I'm not leaving yet," John said. "I still have at least a half hour to enjoy breakfast. You weren't specific about a time."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You knew what I meant," he said, pouring his tea. "Did you sleep okay or is that why you're already trying to aggravate me?"

John sipped his tea and didn't reply. "Don't forget I won't be home right after work. If there's a case or something, just text me."

"Fine," Sherlock said. He moved over to his desk and started checking his email.

John sat at the kitchen table and finished his toast and tea. When he left, he called out to Sherlock and reminded him to text if he needed John for anything. He walked to work and stopped in to greet Nick before going to his own office and getting to work. It was busy, more than the day before, but the day moved steadily and smoothly. Three doctors seemed to be the magic number to run the place. 

At the flat, Sherlock answered the few emails in his Inbox, went through the recent comments on the blog, and called Lestrade to try to drum up some work. He usually didn't mind taking a day or two off after a case, but for some reason, he really wanted to find something today. He was pretty sure his urge had something to do with John -- last night he'd wanted them to enjoy the evening off, but it hadn't felt quite right and he kind of missed spending time together. If they had a case, they could and it would be good again.

John walked to a nearby deli for lunch, making it a quick one so he could get back to the busy office. The steady stream of people made the day pass by quickly and before he knew it the day was over. John opened a text to Sherlock. 

_We're off, I just wanted to check in. -JW_

Sherlock hadn't found a case by the time John's text arrived.

_Who is we? Are you bringing someone home with you? SH_

_Nick and me. Remember I told you we were going out yesterday? -JW_

Sherlock thought for a moment. Who the hell was Nick? He had a vague memory of John going on about work yesterday . . . yes, he was talking about a new doctor. That must be him. He glanced up at the clock -- it was already almost six so John wouldn't be home for dinner. 

_I hope it's not too boring. See you later. SH_

Despite his thought about dinner, though, Sherlock didn't go make any for himself. If John was stuck at work late, he might bring something in with him and Sherlock could just eat some of that. He made a fresh cup of tea and sat down to get back to searching.

He got two replies to his earlier emails, but it seemed they weren't ready to commit to actually hiring Sherlock just yet. Neither mentioned a case, just claimed they were "looking into the possibility," which Sherlock took to mean that they suspected their partners of cheating but weren't ready to actually find out that they were. He did a little more digging but still came up empty handed. For some reason, finding a case for them to work on became more and more important -- he had a hunch that it was probably just a way to ensure John would still find him interesting, or at the very least, would still be able to tolerate his inadequacies as a friend. Sherlock was good when he was working -- this was not bragging, it was just objective truth. He was excellent at listening and thinking and figuring things out. He was less good at being personable, fun, or kind. Those were the characteristics of a friend, not a detective, and those were probably the characteristics John liked being around in his free time. When a few hours had passed, Sherlock finally broke down and sent his brother an email, requesting some work. His reply came quickly and simply read, "Stop bothering me."

Nick and John were at the pub. John bought the first round as they talked. John learned that Nick had just been divorced and was hoping a change of scenery would do him some good. John pointed out the crowded city would offer him some better romantic chances as well and they laughed, the conversation moving to dating and stories about old girlfriends. He was fun. John was having a good time and he was happy for it, happy to have someone else to spend time with when he had down time. Sherlock didn't like doing this sort of thing so it was nice.  

John started telling Nick about the few cases he had worked with Sherlock, leaving out the little incident that finished the first case. He told Nick about falling asleep in his office and how good Sarah had been about it, which led them to discussing funny work stories. They left the first pub and walked over to another one while John pointed out restaurants and shops along the way. 

Sherlock decided to take a bath to take his mind off the lack of cases. The hot water relaxed him a little, and he closed his eyes and went to his Mind Palace, reliving some of the adventures he and John had been on since they first met. When he opened them again, the water was cold so he climbed out, dried off and put on some clean pajamas. That's when he realised John wasn't back yet. It was almost ten. That seemed much too late for them to keep him working. Sherlock felt a burst of indignant anger on John's behalf -- people should not be taking advantage of him. However, he also felt a bit annoyed at John, who should be better at standing up for himself. He put the kettle on and get two mugs out.

But an hour later, John's mug still sat empty, despite Sherlock filling his own twice. He was feeling anxious, spending time worrying that John had been hurt or kidnapped before telling him that was an irrational reaction before convincing himself again that it could happen. He kept picking up his phone and looking for new messages, but none came. He'd started a number of texts, but then stopped. One thing that had become clear in the time that they'd been together is that Sherlock could get away with interrupting dates, but John's work at the surgery was to be respected. For some reason, John felt that that work was equivalent in importance to the work they did together. Sherlock didn't quite agree, of course, but he'd tried to honour John's request.

By now, though, it was almost midnight and the worried part of Sherlock's brain was winning over the logical part. He thought very carefully about how to word the text -- writing it three different times -- before finally settling on.

_Where are you? SH_

He stared at it a few minutes, deciding it was not too demanding or rude, just a casual question which did not in any way reflect the panic and/or anger that he felt. He hit Send.

John paid his tab and followed Nick out of the pub. "I'm glad Sarah hired you to work with us, it's going to be good." 

Nick smiled. "Yes, I am liking the city already. We should do this again sometime. Maybe go out and find some girls," he laughed. 

John grinned and agreed. He took out his phone to check the time as he hailed a cab. 

_On my way now. -JW_

He got into the car and leaned back in the seat, eyes closed as the man took him home. He wasn't too drunk, but he felt the warmth of being tipsy. When he paid and made his way up to the flat, he was still smiling. 

Sherlock felt relieved at John's text. He got up and put the kettle back on, pouring it as he heard John coming up the stairs.

John came in and hung his jacket up beside Sherlock's, toeing his shoes off and coming inside properly. "Still up?" he asked when he saw Sherlock in the kitchen. He was smiling at Sherlock, making his way over to his chair. 

"Obviously," Sherlock said. "I was waiting for you." He brought the tea over and handed it to John. "Was it terrible then?"

"What? No, it was a lot of fun. We are going to do it again soon," John said. 

"Fun?" Sherlock said. "At work?"

"I wasn't at work, Sherlock. I texted you when we left work," John said. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. 

"Right," Sherlock said. "Right." He took a sip of tea. "Why? I mean, what did you do?"

"We went to a pub. A couple of them. Remember, I told you he wanted to see a bit of the city?" 

"Right," Sherlock said again. He stood up quickly. "I think I'll go to bed now." He moved to the kitchen to put his mug in the sink.

"Okay. I'm sorry if you were worried -- I did tell you where I was though," John said, pushing himself out of his chair. 

"I wasn't worried --" Sherlock said quickly. "I was just . . . confused, I guess. I forgot . . . I just had other things on my mind. Sorry." He stopped before heading into his room. "You working again tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I am," John said. He went to the stairs and paused again. "Did you find a case or anything?"

"Um, maybe, hopefully, I mean," Sherlock said. "I might have something ready by the time you get back tomorrow." He glanced over at John. "Well, good night, then."

"Okay. Good night," John said, going up to his room. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep and he slept soundly until his alarm went off in the morning. He took a quick shower and went down to make tea.


	3. Something Is Off

Sherlock had stayed awake in bed for a long time, not sleeping because he was not feeling right. He wasn't quite sure what was wrong, if anything was actually wrong, but he definitely didn't feel right. Which is why when he heard John getting ready for work in the morning, Sherlock decided to just stay in bed. Once he was on his own, he could either find them a case or get over whatever was making him feel off.

John took down two mugs, but Sherlock never got out of bed before he left for work. John left quietly and made a mental note to text him at lunch.

When Sherlock heard the door shut, he stretched out on the bed. He eventually got up and made a cup of tea, carrying it to his desk. He immediately checked his email, and there was still nothing. He stood up and moved over to the window, staring out into the street. He wondered if maybe he'd got himself confused about things in the flat. Yes, that was probably what had happened.

He heard a noise on the stairs and then there was a knock at the door. "Come in," he called, knowing it was Mrs Hudson.  
  
"Morning," she said as she came through. "Why aren't you dressed yet?" she said as she went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.

"I'm working from home," he said grumpily, but didn't move away from the window.

"You're pouting," she said. "Struggling with a case?" She brought a mug in and sat down on the sofa.

"Obviously not," he said. "I don't have a case actually."  
  
"I thought you said you were working from home?" she asked.

"Did you just come up here to hassle me?" he asked in a voice that sounded sharper than he meant it to be.

"All right, okay," she said gently. "What's the problem then, Sherlock?"

"I don't know," he mumbled. "Maybe I'm ill . . ."

She looked over at him. She recognised the tone in his voice and the look on his face. He was confused about emotions. She wondered if he even knew what was going on. "Maybe," she said. She took a sip of tea. "Where's Dr Watson this morning?"

"Off being a doctor," Sherlock said. "No case here so he's gone elsewhere to do something good for the world in that way he does."

"I see," Mrs Hudson said.

"What's that supposed to be mean?" he said.

Mrs Hudson smiled to herself. His defensive reaction made it so clear -- it amazed her how honestly ignorant of emotional matters the otherwise observant Sherlock Holmes was. "Nothing," she said. She took another sip of tea. "Why don't you and John come down for dinner? I could make you a nice home-cooked meal."

"And by home-cooked, do you really mean store-bought?" he said, his voice softening a little. He moved over and sat down across from her.

"Home-cooked, store-bought, let's not quibble over terms," she smiled.

"All right," Sherlock said. "When? Tonight?"

"Whenever," she said. "Actually tonight's not great for me -- I've got a friend coming by -- but any other night's fine."

"Who's this friend?" Sherlock asked, smiling over at her. "Card shark? Drug dealer? Gigolo?"

"Possibly one or more of those -- we'll see when he gets here," she said, winking.

"Well, if he needs any murders solved, tell him to get in touch with me," he said.

"Cheer up," she said as she moved to the kitchen to rinse her cup. "I'm sure someone'll turn up dead soon."

"I hope so," Sherlock said, smiling when she rolled her eyes.

John was hit with patients as soon as he walked in. Sarah was already working through a line of people, and John was on his third patient when Nick came in to help make some headway. He had enough time for a quick hello before he had a line of patients as well. He got several suspected flus, a broken arm, two patients he had to send to the hospital right away, and three toddlers with chicken pox. By the time he was sitting down for lunch he was considering skipping it for a nap. 

"Hey, want to have dinner tonight? My treat since you bought most of the rounds yesterday," Nick said.  

John smiled. "Sure. I just have to make sure Sherlock hasn't found a case. I'll text him when we close up," he said. 

"Okay. I'll invite Sarah as well. We deserve it today."

John nodded his agreement before waving Nick off. He wished he had packed a lunch instead of having to go out and get something. He walked to a close by deli and got a quick sandwich, eating it on the way back to the office. He got back to work as soon as he was done eating, the steady stream of patients still going strong. A broken ankle, several check ups, a prescription refill, and another case of chicken pox brought John to the end of the day. It was a lovely moment when Sarah was locking up the door so they could finish their paperwork. John pulled out his phone and texted Sherlock. 

_Just checking in. Any cases? -JW_

Sherlock stared at John's text a long time before even considering answering. There were only five words in it, but he knew that eight more were implied: _Because I'm not coming home if there's not._ He thought about lying, but that would only delay the inevitable for an hour -- when John got home and Sherlock had nothing, John would just end up angry. Sherlock didn't want him angry with him anymore than he wanted John bored with him. So he decided to go for honest, but vague.

_Not really. SH_

_I'm sorry nothing turned up. We're going to get some dinner if you'd like to join us. -JW_

John knew it was a long shot, but he figured he might as well try.

Sherlock stared at this text as well. We? Us? Who the hell was John talking about? Was he inviting Sherlock to go out with him and his date? That didn't seem right. John always made a fuss when Sherlock interfered with his dates. Of course he did also always come home, but Sherlock couldn't imagine John deliberately inviting him to tag along. Then he remembered last night and John coming home mumbling about the good time he'd had. Was John going out again with the new doctor from work? They'd known each other for one day and they were already a we. 

_No thank you. SH_

_Okay. Do you want me to bring you anything? We won't be out late tonight. -JW_

_No thank you. SH_

_Okay. See you later. -JW_

John put his phone into pocket and followed the other two out. They walked to a nearby pub that was still serving food, venting about the day they had while John bragged about being off the next day.

Sherlock slammed his phone done on the cushion next to him. John seemed to be being deliberately cruel to him. If he just wanted to be colleagues, he shouldn't have moved in here. Maybe he'll want to move out and live with this new doctor now. Sherlock's stomach hurt. He stood up and made himself another cup of tea, which he brought back to the sofa. He closed his eyes and tried to go away, but he kept seeing John in his Mind Palace, and instead of being with Sherlock, he was talking about this new doctor, wanting to leave and go out with him.

He sat up sharply. What on earth was going on?

When the three doctors had finished dinner and a couple pints, John stood to go. The other two didn't seem ready yet and, ignoring the small pang of jealousy about what might happen between them, he took off and left them alone. He walked towards the flat. There was no reason to be jealous. John and Sarah had tried it, and it didn't work out. The almost dying didn't help, and then there was Sherlock constantly insulting her. Like he'd done with the other two women John had dated. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and wondered why he did that. He knew the cases were important but socialising was as well. To John anyway. 

A few minutes later he was walking up to the flat, humming softly as he hung his coat. "Sherlock?" he called out, but not too loudly in case he was working or in bed. 

Sherlock came out of his bedroom, but he didn't say anything to John. He moved to the kettle and poured one cup of tea. "We're almost out of milk," he said as he tipped some into his mug.

"Oh, I could have brought some in if I had known," John said. He moved into the kitchen for tea. "I'll get some tomorrow."

"Fine," Sherlock said. "So you had a good time then?" he asked. There was a bit of a clip in his voice.

John glanced over at Sherlock. "Uh...yeah," he said. He didn't elaborate. It didn't sound like Sherlock wanted to hear about it. 

Sherlock thought carefully for a moment. He was upset, definitely upset, though he wasn't sure he could put into words why he felt that way. At the moment, though, that didn't seem important. What did seem important was that John should feel upset as well, but he didn't. That just didn't seem right.

"Well, we had a client, but I turned them away," he lied. "And you disappointed Mrs Hudson," he lied again.

"What? I asked about a case," John said. "I would have come home. And how did I disappoint Mrs Hudson?" John asked, facing him properly now. He wasn't sure if he believed any of this.

"The case came in a few hours ago, but I had no idea when you'd be home . . ." Sherlock mumbled, not meeting John's eye. "And Mrs Hudson wanted to cook us dinner but again -- no idea about when or if you were coming back at all tonight."

John narrowed his eyes. "How long did you know about that?" he asked. "Never mind. I will just go down and apologise to her and pick a different day to make it up to her." He put his mug down and headed for the door. 

"It's too late now!" Sherlock called, stepping to go after him. "Not everyone stays out all night, you know," he added. He could hear the words coming out of his mouth -- they embarrassed him, but it was like he couldn't stop himself.

"It's only eleven, she's been up here later than that before," he said. John crossed his arms and looked up at Sherlock, brows raised

"John, you've been gone for sixteen hours," Sherlock said. "What if a case had come up? If you aren't interested anymore, you should probably just let me know. I mean, it's fine -- you don't have to worry about being evicted or anything -- I just mean if this . . . situation no longer interests you . . . just tell me so I know."

John narrowed his eyes again. "You were lying -- I knew it!" He stormed back into the flat again. "I texted you about a case _first_ so that I could come home if you needed me. I love working cases with you and would have preferred that over dinner. But I am not going to hole myself up in the flat and not talk to anyone if there's no case!"

"You could have stayed in the flat and talked to me," Sherlock said, doing his best to look in his eyes. "Or perhaps you're not interested in that either..." He glanced down and took a sip of tea.

John huffed loudly and went to get his mug. "I am not doing this with you, Sherlock. Half the time I am home you are lost in your head, and the other half you are shouting and complaining." He turned to look at Sherlock. "You are brilliant, I am not denying that. But you said yourself you were married to your work. That's what you care about. And I do, too. But I care about other things as well. Both are allowed." He moved past Sherlock and got his laptop. "I am going up to my room to work on the blog for a bit and then I am going to bed. Good night, Sherlock."

Sherlock stood for a moment, ready to answer back, but it was like his brain was taking too long to process John's words. He refilled his cup of tea and went into his bedroom, sitting on the bed in the dark. He did care about work. That was true. He couldn't remember having said he 'was married to his work', but maybe he had. So what? John was a part of Sherlock's work now, so obviously Sherlock cared about John as well. If that was obvious to Sherlock who was a bit emotionally stupid, why was John having such a hard time understanding? God, John Watson was so frustrating.

It was perfectly clear to Sherlock: he and John should spend all their time together. It would be perfect -- some of that time they could be working, some of that time Sherlock could be 'lost in his head', and the rest of their time they could . . . what? He tried to think. It had all seemed so clear, but what was it exactly that Sherlock wanted them to do together? He set his mug on his table and then slid down the bed, rolling on to his side. Fine, he didn't have all the concrete details worked out, but Sherlock understood one thing: he and John belonged together. No woman John went out with or new doctor at the surgery was going to destroy that. Tomorrow he'd figure out how to make John understand it as well.

John sat up against his headboard with the computer in his lap, looking through the newest comments on the cases he had posted. There weren't too many at the moment, but the popularity of his blog had sky rocketed. The posts about Sherlock and his amazing skills were a lot more well received than the rantings of an army man trying to piece his life together. John sighed loudly and leaned back. Sherlock had saved him, in all honesty. The cases and the work and the excitement gave John a purpose -- an exciting purpose. Something exhilarating like the war had been. The surgery...it was a necessity. Cases didn't always pay the bills. Didn't Sherlock understand why he needed that work as well?

And what was all of his fussing about John being out? His going out wasn't new. Of course Sherlock's fussing wasn't new either, but this wasn't even a date. It was just a new friend. That wasn't against the rules. What was he saying? There were no rules. Was Sherlock jealous? John shook his head. John had approached the subject at their first dinner out, and he had been immediately shut down. _I'm flattered but you should know I consider myself married to my work._ If John wasn't helping Sherlock with cases, he doubted Sherlock would want anything to do with him. He took his mug down to the sink and got ready for bed. Sherlock would just have to be okay with John making time for both parts of his life. 


	4. John And Sherlock, Temporarily

Sherlock had fallen asleep a few hours later and then woke up a few hours after that. He got his laptop and checked his email. There were a few queries from the blog -- maybe John had been answering comments? Sherlock answered them and then got on the blog to look it over. He smiled at John's comments, which were friendly in a way Sherlock could never be and flattering in a way that made Sherlock feel nice. He suddenly had an urge to go upstairs and tell John he was sorry for pouting earlier and beg him to stop going out. He didn't, of course, that would be stupid and besides it was four in the morning. He logged off and lay back down, hoping to fall back asleep.

John slept a bit later than normal since he didn't set his alarm, but it was still early. He lay in bed for a while thinking about what happened yesterday and wondering if things were going to be awkward. He didn't want to fight with Sherlock. He took a deep breath and went down to start the kettle and make breakfast. 

Sherlock heard John in the kitchen and rolled over to look at the clock. It seemed too late for John to be going to work. That was fine -- it would give Sherlock more time to help John see why he didn't need that stupid new doctor friend. He got up, slid his dressing gown around him, and went out to the kitchen. "Morning," he said, trying to sound pleasant.

"Morning," John said. "I'm making breakfast, do you want to eat with me?"

"Okay," Sherlock said tentatively, trying to gauge whether or not John was still angry. "How are you feeling today?" He poured himself a cup of tea and sat down at the table.

"I'm fine. How about you?" John asked. He started mixing ingredients while the pan heated on the stove.

"All's well," Sherlock said. "So . . . no work today?"

"No work today," he said.

"Me neither," Sherlock said and smiled a little.

John smiled and started whisking the eggs. "I'll go out for milk after breakfast."

"Um, I think there's another pint in there, actually," Sherlock said quickly. "So you were working on the blog, I see," he added quickly.

"Yeah, just answering comments," John said. "Did someone contact you?"

"A couple questions," Sherlock said. "I'll try harder today to find us something to work on."

"Okay," John said. He gave Sherlock his plate. He sat down across from Sherlock and sipped his tea.

"Do you have a date tonight?" Sherlock asked a little sheepishly.

John shook his head. "I don't have plans tonight." 

"Maybe you should cut down on dating a bit," Sherlock said as he fiddled with his fork, scooping the egg into two different piles and then mixing them together again.

"I haven't really dated that much. Why would I cut down?" John asked.

"Well, not cut down, I guess, just -- weren't you saying something about focusing your time on more important things?" Sherlock said. 

"Well, that is something important to me," John said carefully.

"But --" Sherlock started and then stopped. "Of course, all that is important, I just mean that, there's a lot going on and I don't you to be overdoing it . . ." Sherlock took a sip of tea as he tried to regroup -- this wasn't going as he'd planned.

"I think I've got it under control," John said. "I'm not stretched too thin or anything."

"Right, just. . . you looked like you're not getting enough sleep or something . . . maybe you should take it easy today," Sherlock said. "I'll look after you and all you need to do is relax." He stood up and took his plate to the sink. "I'll wash this stuff up now," he said.

"Sherlock...why don't you tell me what this is really about?" John asked gently.

"It's not about anything, John," Sherlock said. "I'm just trying to be a good flatmate and all . . . you do a lot around here. I just want to pull my weight." He turned around and focused on the dishes.

"Look...even if I meet someone...it's not going to change things. I'll still work cases with you. I like doing that."

"Right, of course," Sherlock said. "But you live here now, you're not moving out yet, right? So I'm just thinking, you know . . ."

John waited patiently for Sherlock to finish his thought.

"Just stop making things so difficult, all right?" Sherlock said. "I'm looking after you today so just shut up about everything all the time."

John sighed softly, still not understanding what the problem was. "Okay," he said simply.

"I just mean, I'll be a good flatmate -- you don't have to do everything around here, you know," Sherlock said. He finished the washing up and turned around. "So what are you going to do now? Read, work on the laptop, watch television or what?" He stretched a little and looked around. "I might tidy up my desk a bit, I think."  
  
John shrugged. "Maybe watch television for a bit, see if anything good is on."

"Excellent choice," Sherlock said smiling, as he moved over to his desk. Yes, this was much better -- just the two of them being together, even without a case on. He checked his email and then started tidying.

John sat on the sofa and flipped through the channels until he found an old movie he hadn't seen in a while. Things seemed to be more cooled off now.

Sherlock worked for a little while, glancing over at John who seemed to have settled into something on the television. Once he'd finished sorting things, he carried some papers to the bin and turned the kettle on. He poured two cups and put a few biscuits on a plate, and then brought them into the sitting room. He set them down and then sat on the sofa. "What are you watching?" he asked. 

"It's a spy movie from when I was young. I haven't seen it in ages," John said.

"I feel like I recognise that actor," Sherlock said, thinking back. "Oh right, I think he was arrested a few years ago." He took a sip of tea. "Did you used to watch a lot of films when you were young?"

"Yeah, a lot with Harry," John said. "She always got to pick, but she didn't have horrible taste."

"We didn't watch many when we were young," Sherlock said. "Mycroft liked cartoons, though." He looked over at John. "Hard to imagine, isn't it?" Just then Sherlock's phone rang and he jumped up to get it. "Speak of the devil," he said and answered it. 

"I need your brain," Mycroft said before Sherlock even said hello.

"For what?" Sherlock asked, glancing over at John and making a face.

"A memory," Mycroft said. "Of a man. Check your email." And then he hung up.

Sherlock put his phone down. "Annoying," he mumbled and moved over to his desk.

John smiled at Sherlock's face and watched the telly until he was off the phone. "Case?"

"Yes, well, I don't know," Sherlock said. "Let me have a look at the email." He opened it up and read it over. "Hmmm . . . probably not," he said. "It's something from a project he and I did a long time ago. He just needs me to find something . . ." He pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and dug through some papers and when he didn't find the information there, he got up and pulled down a few binders from the bookshelf. "Damn it," he muttered. "I can't find it . . ."

"Can I help?" John asked.

"No," Sherlock said, a little more sharply than he meant to. "Sorry . . . it's from so long ago . . . I really should get my old notes organised onto the computer at some point." He stared up and down the shelves and then turned to look over at John. "I'm just going to have to remember, I guess. I don't want to bother you. You finish the film . . . I'll go in my room to think."

John stayed on the sofa. A little while later, his phone went off.

_Body exhibit at the museum. Want to go? -N_

John glanced at Sherlock's room.

_When? -JW_

_Now, I can come get you. -N_

_Okay. -JW_

"Sherlock?" John got up and knocked on the door of his bedroom.

"John, I'm thinking!" Sherlock called. He closed his eyes again and tried to find the man's face -- he knew precisely the event Mycroft was asking about, but he just couldn't remember the details that were needed.

"Right," John said quietly. He got his coat and stuck a note on the kettle for Sherlock. He walked out just as Nick was pulling up.

As he climbed into the passenger seat, John smiled and asked "So a body exhibit?"  
  
"Yes, it's all kinds of different things -- different poses and diseases but from the inside. I'm taking an extended lunch so I can see it, and I knew you'd like it."  
  
"Yeah, it sounds interesting," John agreed.  
  
They talked about the surgery and how it wasn't too busy today. When they arrived John was glad that Nick had come to get him. The bodies and the muscles looked amazing, especially from a medical stand point. 

It took much longer than Sherlock had intended, but eventually he found what he was looking for. He reached for his phone and texted Mycroft the information he needed. He got up, feeling quite smug, and went out to find John. He moved to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and saw John's note. He read it, set it down, and then picked it up and read it again.

Sherlock Holmes was not very good with feelings, everyone knew that. Dealing with them one at a time was bad enough, but at this moment, he had too many feelings to even name, let alone deal with. He set the note down again. Then he picked it up and tore it to shreds, letting them fall onto the floor. He made himself a cup of tea and carried it to the sofa. He took one long sip of the too hot tea and then reached for his phone.

_You're needed at home immediately. SH_

John was leaning close to study a brain cut into segments when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and frowned lightly at the massage.

_What's happened? -JW_

_Does it matter? Come home. SH_

_I'm at the museum, maybe for another hour. I'll be home soon. -JW_

_You're needed immediately. SH_

_What is going on, Sherlock? When I left you were just thinking in your room. -JW_

_I'm done thinking. You always come home from dates when you're needed. You're needed. Come home. SH_

Sherlock did not care that he was acting like a child. He did not care that he was being selfish. All he cared about was getting John back to the flat.

_I'm not on a date, Sherlock. I told you I was with Nick for his lunch break. I'll be back soon. -JW_

John kept holding his phone as they moved into a different section with the diseased muscles now, cut into sections to see every angle of them and the effects on them. 

"Everything okay?" Nick asked, glancing at the phone. 

John nodded. "Yeah. It's just Sherlock."

"New case?" 

John shook his head. He pointed out the nearest exhibit to change the subject. 

_Are you sure you're not on a date? Usually a date is the excuse you give for leaving me to work on my own. Which is what you've done today. Therefore I can only assume you are on a date. And usually you will come home from dates if you are needed, so could you please stop behaving like a child and just come home? Thanking you in advance. SH_

Sherlock hit Send and then took a deep breath. He knew he'd just started something big, and he also knew he only had a short amount of time to figure out why he'd done it and what he planned to do next.

John stuffed his phone angrily into his pocket and didn't reply. He waved off Nick's concern and went back to examining the different exhibits, taking his time about it. Sherlock was always interrupting his dates, and he always went running because a case was usually more exciting then dinner and forced conversation. But he didn't have a case this time and John wasn't on a date. He was out with a friend, doing something he enjoyed. He wasn't running home this time, and it annoyed him that Sherlock couldn't just let him enjoy this. 

When they were finished, John declined a ride home so Nick could get back to work. Walking would also take him longer to get home and a small part of him wanted Sherlock to feel every second of that. He was angry. 

Sherlock got up from the sofa and moved to the kitchen. He clicked the kettle on and then washed John's mug and set it on the table. Next to it he put a plate of biscuits. He put the radio on softly, playing classical music. On a piece of paper, he scribbled the word SORRY and taped it to the front of the flat's door. And then he went to hide in his bedroom until he figured out what he was going to say when he had to face John. 

John was walking up to the flat an hour later, tugging the note down from the door. His mood, softened by the long walk, softened just a bit more when he saw the apology. There was nothing else on it so he headed upstairs, hoping for an explanation. All he found was tea and biscuits. "Sherlock?" he called out, going to hang his jacket up by the door. "Sherlock!" 

Sherlock stood up and moved to his bedroom door, opening it just a crack. "I'm in here," he said. "Should I come out?"

"Yes. Come in here and explain this pressing case," John said, crossing his arms. 

Sherlock opened the door. "I never said anything about a case," he said, moving to the kitchen to pour a cup of tea. 

"Then explain the texts, Sherlock." 

"They just said you were needed at the flat," Sherlock said, trying to keep his voice casual.

"For?" John pressed him, stepping closer. 

"A variety of things . . ." Sherlock said. "But you're home now . . . so all's well." He took his tea over to the sofa. He wondered if that would be that. 

"All is not well!" John said loudly, following him into the sitting room. "I wasn't on a date, Sherlock. And yeah, it's annoying when you interrupt those, but the cases are exciting and we have fun so I deal with it. But today...I was doing something I enjoyed with a friend. You had no right to try to trick me into coming home."

"I did not trick you," Sherlock said. "All I did was . . . well, I did not trick you is what matters." He tried to think of how to explain but instead decided to go for distraction. "And besides, this is no time for your ridiculous homophobia -- it's fine you were on a date with a man. In fact, I kind of like you better now that you've accepted that part of you. But as you say, my annoying interruptions are ultimately fun and exciting, so how about instead of fighting, we do something fun and exciting?"

"No. I am going out -- a walk or something. I don't want to be here right now." He turned and went to get his coat. "I like spending time with you -- you don't have to lie and trick me to be here. But when you do..." He shook his head. "I'll be back later." 

"John," Sherlock said, jumping up. "Don't go -- I just wanted you here . . . don't go out again."

"Then why didn't you just say that?" John asked. He continued putting his coat on. He was still annoyed and now he was confused as well. He needed to think. He wanted to be alone. "I don't understand why you had to go through all of that, why you had to try and ruin my day out. I'll be back later. I'll bring dinner." He turned and hurried down the stairs, leaving the flat again and heading for the park. 

Sherlock watched John leave. He dropped back onto the sofa and tried to think. What was going on here? Why was he behaving like this? He tried to make sense of it, but it was clearly about feelings and John was the one who made sense of feelings. Why wasn't he doing that today? It must be because of this new doctor, this stupid man called Nick. Sherlock hated Nick.

He closed his eyes for a moment. Ever since John moved in here, Sherlock had been having feelings. He hadn't really talked about them, but he knew they were there. Those feelings were entirely good -- he'd felt happy, he'd looked forward to being with another person, he'd actually had fun. Yes, most of the time they'd been working on cases, but even the short times in between, Sherlock had simply just enjoyed being with John. And it'd seemed like John had enjoyed being with him. Even though John had gone out on dates, he always came home when Sherlock called him.

But John had just explained that he'd only come home from dates for the cases. It was the cases that John thought were exciting and fun. Not Sherlock. Today was the proof: John had been out enjoying himself with his new friend and when he'd come home to find there was no case -- no fun and exciting case, just simply Sherlock waiting for him -- John just walked out of the flat.

And now Sherlock remembered why he'd spent so long avoiding feelings -- because feelings hurt.

He stood up from the sofa and went over to his desk to get some paper. He needed to let John know he knew now that he'd misunderstood everything. He needed to apologise. And then he went back into his bedroom and shut the door.

John walked through the park until he found a secluded bench. He started to calm down again, thinking through the conversation with Sherlock. _I just wanted you home._ John rubbed his face as he sighed loudly. He knew Sherlock was different -- he didn't interact very well with other people. But John was his friend. Everyone pointed out that John was the exception. Every aspect -- even the smallest detail -- of their relationship was an anomaly to everyone because Sherlock just didn't do this sort of thing. He didn't like anyone. He didn't trust anyone. But then why was he still treating John like this? Did he not know any better? John started to regret having left the way he did. He took a deep breath and slowly made his way back to the flat, stopping to pick up some food on the way.

John walked up to the door and pulled off another sticky note that said 'sorry' on it. He rolled his eyes and stuffed it into his pocket before heading upstairs. There was another one on their door. He pulled it off and put it with the first. When he hung his coat he found another one. And one on the kettle, and his mug handle, and on the cupboard where they kept the plates. He sighed loudly and put the bag down. "Sherlock!" he called out again. 

Sherlock stood up and opened his bedroom door a crack again. "I don't want to come out," he said. "Last time I only made things worse."

"I brought dinner," John said. "And...I forgive you," he added, opening his box and sitting down to eat. 

Sherlock came out and moved over to the table. "Thank you," he said tentatively. "For both things." 

John nodded, offering him a small smile while he ate. He took a deep breath. "You have to just...be honest with me, okay?"

"Okay," Sherlock said. He took a bite of food. "I am _honestly_ sorry."

John looked up. "You know what I mean, Sherlock."

"Okay," Sherlock said again, looking down at his food. "Sorry." He fiddled with his fork. "And you'll be honest with me, right?"

"I haven't been anything else with you," John reminded him. 

"Right," Sherlock said. He stood up and poured two glasses of water, bringing them back to the table. "I've not checked my email for a while. Maybe we'll have a case," he said hopefully.

"Maybe," John said. "Did you figure out what your brother wanted?"

"I did," Sherlock said. "Are you working tomorrow? Maybe we could go see Lestrade -- remind him we exist."

"I am working," John nodded. "We can go after, I can meet you there after work."

"All right, okay, we can do that," Sherlock said. "Whatever you want." He didn't want to look over at John. He was afraid to see some kind of eagerness on his face -- he didn't want to see how much John was looking forward to spending more time with this so-called Nick.

"Okay. I'll text you when I leave work, okay?" 

"That should work," Sherlock said. He took his plate to the sink and moved over to his desk.

John finished eating and put the leftover food away, washed the dishes and stretched as he yawned. "Sherlock, I am going to lie down, okay? Do you need anything?"

Sherlock looked up from his laptop. "No," he said. "I'm fine. I might go have a bath actually." He closed his computer and got up.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow," John said. "Good night, Sherlock."

"Good night, John," Sherlock said. He watched him go up to his room and then went in to take a bath. He tried not to think as he sat in the hot water. His mind needed a rest. When he got out, he put on clean pajamas and got into bed. It took him a long time before he could fall asleep, but eventually he did.

John lay down and set his alarm for the morning, falling asleep almost immediately. He had strange dreams about Sherlock coming to work at the surgery, and then an even stranger one of Nick taking off a mask and having been Sherlock all along. When his alarm sounded in the morning John was grateful to be awake and not seeing any of that any more. He took a quick shower, changed, and went down to make tea and breakfast. He glanced at Sherlock's room and wondered if he was really okay. It was odd -- when he first moved in he never would have asked something like that. Sherlock seemed to always be in control of himself and his feelings were always very deeply hidden. John was worried that he had to worry about that now. 


	5. John And Nick And Sherlock

When Sherlock heard John in the kitchen, he got out of bed, put on his dressing gown and came out. "Good morning," he said, trying to sound cheerful. He didn't want John to be angry at him anymore. Whatever feelings he was having, he knew that as soon as he could find them a case, John would want to spend time with him and things could be good again.

"Good morning," John said, sitting down with his toast and tea.

"I'm going to get us a case today," Sherlock said. "I'm going to try to think positive like you always do and maybe it'll work for us."

"Okay," John smiled. "I'll think positive too."

"You working all day then?" Sherlock asked. "Don't be late getting home -- just in case. I mean, unless you have to be . . . whatever works, I mean."  
  
John smiled softly. "I'll be home after work today, Sherlock. I'll see you then." He stood and put his dishes in the sink, bringing the leftovers along for lunch as he grabbed his coat. 

Sherlock watched him go and then went to his desk. He opened his laptop and sent over a dozen emails, trying to drum up something -- anything -- that he and John could work in. After a while of no response, he decided that staring at the screen wasn't helping. He would get up, take a shower and get dressed and that would ensure an email would arrive. So he did just that. When he came out of his bedroom, he decided to make a cup of tea -- allowing the universe a few more minutes to make sure the right thing happened. And when he went back to his computer, the universe had not let him down.

John went in to an empty lobby and used the few minutes of peace to work on some files he had left over from the last time he worked. Nick came in and they chatted about the exhibit they had seen and how amazing it was. John thanked him again for taking him just as a couple patients came in, starting off the busy day. They worked steadily until noon when John eagerly pulled out his leftovers. 

"I brought lunch today, are you going out?" Nick asked. 

John lifted his box of Chinese and smiled. "Not today."

"Come eat in my office. Sarah went out for lunch," he said. John shrugged and took his box into Nick's office, sitting in front of the desk and bringing up the exhibit again, specifically the diseased portions, laughing about the gruesome parts.

Sherlock was about to text John when he noticed the time and decided to head in to catch him on his break. He nodded to the woman in reception and headed back to John's office, but he wasn't there. He went back out front and asked where John was. 

"I think he's back in Dr Grant's room," she said pointing around the corner.

Sherlock stood for a moment deciding what to do. He headed back to the room slowly, pausing at the door.

"Hey, do you want to get a drink after work?" Nick asked. 

John shook his head, trying to chew and swallow the bite he had just taken to explain that he had to go home after work and meet Sherlock. 

"Come on," Nick said. "Just a quick one -- you deserve a break."  
  
Sherlock stood at the door listening. He didn't like the sound of this at all. This man was clearly under the impression that going home to Sherlock was something terrible for John -- why would he think that? Had John given him that impression? He decided he couldn't face hearing John's response so he tapped lightly on the door as he walked through.

"John," he said.

John coughed and swallowed hard, groaning a bit as he rubbed his neck. "Sherlock? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

"You tell me," Sherlock said to John, though he was looking at Nick.

John's brows furrowed. "Um. Right. Everything is fine here. This is Nick. Nick, this is Sherlock."

Nick grinned and stood up, sticking his hand out. "It's great to meet you -- I've heard amazing things about you."

Sherlock did not move. He waited for what would have seemed like much too long for a normal person and then turned to John. "So you're making plans for tonight?" he asked.

Nick lowered his hand and kept standing, unsure what to do. 

"I told you I was coming home after work," John said evenly. 

"So have your plans changed then?" Sherlock asked. His voice was clipped. Once again, he wasn't entirely sure what mixture of feelings he was having, though he'd have guessed a cross between anger, embarrassment, and hurt. "You just need to let me know if coming home to me is too stressful for you -- if you feel you need a break, by all means, you are free to take one."

"What are you talking about?" John asked. "Go...go to my office right now." He shoved Sherlock until he was out of Nick's office. "I'm sorry."

"I didn't realise . . . I didn't mean to come between you guys," Nick said. 

"No," John said. "We're not...it's not like that. He just has trouble with friends. I'm going to talk to him. I'll see you later." John walked out and saw Sherlock just standing there so he grabbed his arm and tugged him into his office. "What the hell is wrong with you?" 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sherlock lied.

"You said you wouldn't do this anymore," he said, closing his door. "That was rude and unnecessary." 

"I said I'd be honest with you," Sherlock corrected. "I've been honest. And what do I care if I was rude to him? He's done nothing but disrupt our work."

John shook his head. "You are not the only one allowed to exist in this friendship!" It was very hard not to shout. "He's my friend, Sherlock. I'm allowed to have a life away from you. I like you, and I value our friendship, but this is getting too hard to keep putting up with..."

"You've known him for two days, John," Sherlock said. "I did not realise you gave your friendship away so easily. I'm sorry -- I was under the impression that our friendship meant something." He turned to move to the door. "We have a case," he said. "But I can work on it on my own." And then he was gone. 

John watched him leave. He wanted to work the case -- after all this time he was craving it a bit -- but he couldn't follow Sherlock. He let Sherlock go and got back to seeing patients. He wasn't going to let Sherlock make him feel bad for wanting to have a friend.

"Is he okay?" Nick asked when they had a free moment. 

John shrugged. "He'll be fine." 

"What's going on?" he asked. 

John sighed. "He's jealous, I think. I don't know."

"Jealous? Of what? Our friendship?" he asked. 

"He's...it's complicated," John said. 

Nick nodded. "Okay. Well...I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

John assured him it was fine and that he had nothing to be sorry about before they started seeing patients again for the rest of the day. John left his paperwork again so he could get home faster. He stopped by Nick's office to say goodbye, waving to Sarah before heading home. 

Sherlock had rushed back to the flat and was now curled up in the chair in his room. He didn't understand anything that was happening. Why was this messing with his head so much? Why was he so . . . hurt by this? He knew it had to do with emotions and not logic, but he was a grown man -- he'd have to sit here until he made sense of it.

John walked up and angrily hung his jacket. "Sherlock? Come out here right now," he called. 

"No," Sherlock called, not moving from his chair.

"Fine. Pout like a big baby," John said. "I'm not having this conversation any more. If you want to keep acting like this than we can just...work cases and nothing else." He grabbed a bottle of water and headed up to his room. 

Sherlock grabbed his phone.

_That's not what I want. SH_

_Too bad. I can't keep playing these games with you. -JW_

John knew he was being dramatic, but it felt good giving Sherlock a taste of his own medicine. 

_You know these things are difficult for me. SH_

_All I'm asking is that you're honest with me. -JW_

_This is me being honest, John. I'm sorry if you don't like it or I don't do it right. SH_

_No. You told me you would talk to me and instead you showed up at my work acting like an insane person. -JW_

_I only came to talk to you. We had a case so I wanted to tell you as up until recently you were my partner. I'm sorry I got things wrong again. SH  
_

_You didn't get it wrong, Sherlock. We are partners, but cases aren't the only thing in my life and I need you to respect that. It doesn't diminish what we have. -JW_

Sherlock looked at John's text. He didn't want the cases to be the only thing in John's life. He wanted to be the only thing in John's life. But obviously that wasn't fair -- John was usually a pretty fair man, and if he didn't want that, Sherlock couldn't force him. 

_All right. SH_

John sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, letting himself fall backwards on it. He didn't know what Sherlock wanted and the man wasn't talking. 

Sherlock sat back in his chair. He read over the texts again. In truth, this wasn't all right. Sherlock didn't feel it was all right at all.

_Except I don't want you to go out with Nick anymore. I understand what you're saying, but if you could do that for me, I would appreciate it. Thank you. SH_

John had said he wanted Sherlock to be honest and talk to him, so now John had no one but himself to blame for what was about to happen.

John lifted his phone to read the message. 

_Why don't you want me to go out with Nick? -JW_

_Because it seems cruel. SH_

_How? -JW_

_Because it seems like you're doing it to make me feel sad and it is making me feel sad, so please stop doing it. SH_

_That's not why I am doing it, Sherlock. Why do you feel sad? -JW_

_Because I love you. And I don't want you to be with him. SH_

There. Now he'd been honest with John. And with himself.


	6. Love

John stared at the message in shock. He sat up. Sherlock must be confused. That could be the only reason he would say that. John swallowed hard and stood up, making his way downstairs, knocking on Sherlock's door.

"You don't have to come in," Sherlock called. "You don't have to do anything, I guess. I was just being honest."

John went into his room anyway. "Sherlock, we need to talk about what you think you are feeling," he said. 

"I already told you what I was feeling," Sherlock said, not looking up at him. "It's all right if you don't feel the same, but I was honest just like you said I should be."  
  
"Sherlock, I think you're confused," John said. 

"That's okay," Sherlock said. "I know I'm not."

"I..." John sighed. "I mean, what you said...that's not what friends really say to each other."

"That's fine," Sherlock said. He fiddled with the arm of the chair. "I hope you don't say it to him," he mumbled.

"Wha -- no, Sherlock, I wouldn't. I don't...you shouldn't say that to me," he said softly. 

"But you said to be honest and to talk to you," Sherlock answered, finally looking up. "You can't take that back now that I've done it."

"I know that," John said. "I want you to be honest. But...I don't know. Are you sure?"

"Obviously," Sherlock said. He swallowed awkwardly. "We don't need to keep talking about it, John. I understand you don't feel the same. I understand there are other things that are important to you. I understand everything . . . I just -- just please don't keep talking to me about him. If you could just stop doing that, everything will be fine. Please. . ."

"I...I don't want to hurt you, Sherlock. And I love spending time with you, too. I do. I don't know what you want me to do," he admitted.  

"I just told you," Sherlock said. He stood up and started to move past John. "Let's just not keep talking about it, all right? I need a cup of tea and we have a case to work on."

John opened and closed his mouth. He didn't understand how he could keep living here with Sherlock and hide the fact that he was seeing other people -- friends and otherwise. And what was he supposed to do about Sherlock thinking he was in love with him? Maybe with some time, Sherlock would realise that that wasn't exactly what he was feeling. He took a deep breath. "What's the case?"

Sherlock turned the kettle on and got out two mugs. "I put the print out of the contact email in my coat pocket," he said. "You can get it out."

John went to the get the copy of the email, reading it over quietly. "Missing person, huh? I'm sure you'll have this in now time. Are we going to interview anyone?"

"We've got an appointment at eight," Sherlock said. "Will you be able to be here?"

John nodded. "Yeah, of course," he said. 

"All right, let's have this tea and then we can get ready," Sherlock said. "I'll take you out to dinner afterwards if you like."

That sounded different now that Sherlock had said what he had said before. "Sure, we can go eat," John said, making it sound a bit more casual. 

"Excellent," Sherlock said, smiling a little. He sat down at his desk to get things sorted.

John sat on the edge of his chair, drinking his tea slowly as he watched Sherlock work. What if he really meant what he said? That would explain the jealousy a lot more than just being jealous of new friends. He remembered Sherlock saying he was married to his work, but maybe that was just because they didn't really know each other. John hadn't exactly been honest either. He looked away and shook his head.

When it got close to eight, Sherlock tidied up and got ready for their guest. John had been right -- Sherlock probably would be able to sort it rather quickly, but still it was good to have an acceptable excuse for them to spend time together. If John liked working on cases, Sherlock would keep the cases coming. After he'd walked the client down, he came back up and said, "Where do you want to go for dinner?"

"Oh. Um, Angelo's, I think. I haven't had Italian in a while," he said. "Unless you want to order in, I don't mind."

"No," Sherlock said. "We should go out." He slipped his coat on and then held John's out for him.

John took his coat and put it on, following Sherlock out of the flat. 

They made their way over to Angelo's. Sherlock held the door open for John and then pulled out his chair at their usual table. "Feel all right?" he asked. "You hungry?"

John sat down feeling a bit awkward about the gesture. "Um, yeah, I'm hungry. Will you eat something?" he asked.

"Yes, of course, we're out to dinner, I'll eat something," Sherlock said. Angelo came over and Sherlock asked for a bottle of wine. When Angelo left, Sherlock stood up and grabbed a candle from another table. "I'll just put it on my side," he said, pulling it closer to him.

John stared at the candle. Did Sherlock think this was a date? He tugged the menu close and focused on that even though Angelo knew what they always ordered. Did Sherlock think that John had been going on dates with Nick? Yes, he must have. John remembered his comment about homophobia. He didn't even know how wrong he was. He clearly had no idea that John had been attracted to him from the moment they'd met, but had done his best to put that out of his mind.

Sherlock ordered his usual. Once John had as well, he poured them each a glass of wine. "So the case," he said. "Maybe tomorrow we could go and check a few places out -- I've got some ideas."

John nodded. "Should I call off?" he asked. 

"I'll let you decide," Sherlock said.

"How many places do you want to go see? What time?" he asked. 

"We should start out with the woman's office and perhaps her husband's as well -- could be a double bluff, but I'm guessing she's just taken off. I wouldn't be surprised if an affair's involved," Sherlock said.

"Do you want to go during business hours?"

"Obviously," Sherlock said. "I don't want you to be angry, though, so I understand if you'd rather go to the surgery."

"I'll call in. I'll make it up the next day," John said. He wanted to prove that he took their work seriously as well. 

Sherlock wanted to smile, but decided to try not to show his pleasure. Angelo came over with their food. Sherlock topped up their glasses. "Everything taste good?" he asked John.

John nodded. "This is a good wine," he said.

"It is," Sherlock said. "I'm having a wonderful time." He took another sip and then made himself eat a few bites of food.

John looked down at his food and mixed it around his plate. He didn't know what to say.

"Have you checked the blog recently? Any comments?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing since the last time I responded," John explained.

"Maybe we could put something else up there," Sherlock said. "I could write some articles or something, in between cases."  
  
"Yeah, maybe," John said.

Sherlock ate a little food. He couldn't tell if this was going well or not. "Oh, um, Mrs Hudson wants to cook us dinner one night soon," he remembered. "It doesn't have to be right away, but she did ask."  
  
"So that wasn't a trick?" John asked, but he smiled to show he wasn't angry.

"No, it was the truth," Sherlock said. He felt a little more at ease.

The conversation steered back to the case as they ate and for a little while it was like old times--before Sherlock's jealousy and before his admission. Sherlock had never really had a friend before and John couldn't help but think he was just confused by that. The rest of the dinner seemed normal, and soon they were out on the street, making their way home.

"You look chilly," Sherlock said. "Do you want me to get us a taxi?"

"It's not that cold, I'm okay."

"Here, take my scarf at least," Sherlock said, sliding it from his neck. He stopped and put it around John. "I don't want you to get poorly," he said and then continued walking. "Because I love you," he added, looking forward.

John stopped walking, Sherlock's scarf draped loosely on his neck. "Sherlock...you can't keep saying that," he murmured. 

"I can because I just did," Sherlock said. "Besides, you said I should talk to you and be honest, remember?"

"Okay but...that's not something friends say to each other," he said. "We're friends, you know?"

"I know we're friends, John. I understand," Sherlock said. He walked on. "But also I love you."

"No," John huffed, hurrying to catch up. "That's not -- that's a different feeling than friendship, Sherlock."

"Stop trying to tell me what I feel," Sherlock said. "I know it's different. But it doesn't mean it's not true."

John blinked up at him. "You...oh," he mumbled. "So...is that why you were upset about Nick? Because we weren't dating, Sherlock..."

"So you say," Sherlock said. "It seemed quite similar to dates though . . ."

"No. Dates are dates because of feelings involved. Nick and I don't have feelings like that for each other."

"Good," Sherlock said, even though he secretly wondered if Nick did have those feelings. Why wouldn't he? John was good in every way. They walked up to the door and Sherlock unlocked it, but before he went in, he turned to John. "I wish you had those feelings for me -- I understand that you don't. But that doesn't change my feelings for you, so please stop trying to tell me those feelings aren't real." He pushed the door open and headed upstairs.

John watched Sherlock climb the steps. He held on to Sherlock's scarf and climbed up behind him. "I never said I didn't have them for you." 

Sherlock stopped. "Are you saying you do?" he asked. He had no idea how to handle either answer really, though he was pretty sure he knew which one to expect.

John nodded. "I suppose I did from the beginning, but you said you didn't do this sort of this so I just...let it go."

Sherlock turned and went into the flat. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that. He moved to the kitchen and put on the kettle as John came in and hung up his coat.

"You couldn't have loved me at the beginning," Sherlock finally said. "You didn't know me."

"Well, maybe I didn't love with you then, but I was interested."  John took the scarf off last, looking down at it. "And I let it go but I still observed things. And I suppose I still ended up loving you."

Sherlock poured the tea and carried them over to the sitting room. He put John's on the table and then sat down on his chair. He waited for John to sit and then said, "I don't believe you."

John nodded. "I don't believe you either," he said. 

"Fine," Sherlock said, taking a sip of tea.

There was silence for a moment before John broke it. "I don't believe you because I'm still worried that you're confused," he admitted. 

"Well, I'm not," Sherlock said. "And I don't believe you because . . . I just don't. It doesn't make sense." 

"Why doesn't it make sense?"

"Because of the women and because . . . well, I'm not really lovable, am I?" Sherlock said, quickly bringing the cup up for a drink to cover his face a bit.

"The women don't prove anything," John said. "I like both." He took a long sip of tea. "And I think you are lovable, since I have fallen in love with you."

Sherlock looked around the room stupidly. "Well, then, you shouldn't have tried to talk me out of my feelings," he said. "That was mean, especially if you feel similarly."

"I wasn't trying to talk you out of them," John said. "I just...it's going to hurt if you realise that isn't what you meant and you have to take it back."

"I generally don't say things I don't mean," Sherlock said. "I appreciate that I've probably given off the impression that I'm incapable of feeling love . . . but I'm not."

John opened his mouth and flushed, unsure of what to say. That had really been what he had thought about Sherlock. 'I...I want you to believe me."

"Well, I'll think about whether or not to decide to believe you. . ." Sherlock said. "Of course, if you keep going out with other people, it'll make it a little more difficult . . ."

"I wasn't 'going out' with him!" John said, laughing unbelievably. "It's not the same."

"It felt the same to me," Sherlock said. "It made me sad . . . I just wanted you to want to be with me. I know I'm not fun like the women and like he is, but still . . ."

"I'm sorry it made you sad," John said. "I can't say that I won't go out with friends, but I definitely won't go on dates anymore. Unless they are with you."

Sherlock sat quietly for a few moments. "Will they be a little better than tonight's date?" he asked quietly. "I mean, I kind of feel like I did all the work this evening." He smiled a little.

John smiled. "They will be better," he nodded. 

"Good," Sherlock said. "Well, I think I'll have an early night if we're going to get up and do some work tomorrow." He finished his tea and stood up to take his mug to the kitchen.

"Right," John said. He stood and stretched, feeling a bit lost. Were they dating now? A proper couple? It was an odd situation with them living together first.  

Sherlock washed up his cup and then headed to his bedroom. "Good night, John," he said. "I love you." Then he went into his room.

"Good night," John said, lifting his hand as Sherlock walked off. John stood there for a little bit longer before heading up to his own room. 


	7. The Case

In the morning Sherlock rolled over and saw light coming in through the sliver between the curtain and wall, so he knew he should get up and start their investigations. He grabbed his phone and saw that it was almost eight.

_I'm getting up now. Are you coming with me today, and if so, can you be ready to leave at 9? PS I still love you. SH_

John shifted when his phone vibrated. He read the message and sighed. He had a hard time falling asleep last night thinking about all of that love business. 

_I can be ready. -JW_

He thought for a moment and then sent another.

_I love you too. -JW_

Sherlock smiled and slid out of bed. He went to the kitchen first to click the kettle on and then had a quick shower, emerging from the bathroom a few moments later fully dressed. He dropped tea bags into the mug but only poured his own, which he carried to the desk. He checked his email and took a few notes while he waited for John to come downstairs.

John took a quick shower after Sherlock, changed, and came down to have his tea. 

Sherlock smiled a bit when he saw John. "Do you want to eat first? There's time to eat if you need food," he said.

"Yeah, I'll make some toast," he said. 

Sherlock fiddled with some papers and brought them over to the table. "I really think the wife isn't missing but has just left him -- I did not like the man at all and could understand why she'd want to get away. But we should make sure she's safe. He wanted us to find her, but we're under no obligation to tell him where she is," Sherlock said.

John nodded. "I agree. I didn't like him much either."

"I've got a list of other places to try, but I honestly don't think we'll need them," Sherlock said. He glanced at the clock as John put his mug in the sink. He helped John on with his coat, and they headed out.

When they got to the office building, they went in and Sherlock asked to see the woman. The two men behind the reception desk glanced at each other, and then one said, "She's not here."  
  
"Right," Sherlock said. "Then can we speak to her supervisor -- privately?" 

The man made a phone call and then led them back into the building, directing them into an office. The man inside stood up and shut the door behind them.

"Are you working for her husband then?" he said as he moved around the desk and sat back down.

"Before you say anything else," Sherlock said. "Let me explain the situation. My name is Sherlock Holmes, and this is my colleague, Dr Watson. We are detectives but we also work closely with the police. Alissa's husband did come to us to explain that she was missing, but our only concern is her safety. If she does not want to see him anymore, quite frankly we'd understand. We will happily simply report back to him that she is not in fact missing." He glanced up at the man, who seemed concerned. "Is she in fact missing?" he asked.

"No, she's --" the man started.

"You do not need to tell us where she is -- it's quite easy not to tell him details if we do not know details," Sherlock said. He looked closely at the man again. "Is she safe and would you be able to prove she is safe if the police were to get involved?"

The man looked back at Sherlock. "I spoke with her this morning," he said. "She is safe."

Sherlock took a business card out of his coat and scribbled something on the back before handing it to the man. "We will report this to the police -- I've put the number of DI Lestrade on the card. If he needs more information, he'll contact you," Sherlock said. "We'll let the husband know Alissa is not missing, but we won't give him anything else, including your name. If he knows the police are aware she's safe, perhaps he will understand that any future contact is inadvisable."

"Thank you," the man said. "Of course, we're concerned about an employee's safety, but a man like that puts everyone's safety in danger."

"We'll be happy to share that information with the police as well," Sherlock said, moving towards the door. "Thank you for your help." 

John watched Sherlock work, looking around the office for any signs that he was lying, but he couldn't see anything that he would consider out of the ordinary. When Sherlock moved John thanked the man as well and followed him out. "Well, that was a simple one," he said. "Sorry."

"That's all right," Sherlock said. "They'll can't all be good ones." He smiled as he held the door open for John. "We needn't call him just yet," he said. "Should we stop by to see Lestrade first?" he lifted a hand to get them a taxi.

"Sure," John nodded. "Are we going to tell him? About us?"

"I don't think that'll be necessary," Sherlock said, opening the car door for John.

"Oh. But it's still happening, right?"

"Well, I haven't stopped loving you in the last three hours, so as far as I'm concerned, yes . . . unless you've changed your mind?"

John shook his head. "No, I haven't."

"Good," Sherlock said. "I'm glad." He looked over and smiled. They got out and went into find Lestrade, explaining the situation and passing on the details. When they were back out on the street, Sherlock looked over at John. "He knows," he said.

"He knows what?" John asked.

"Knows I love you," Sherlock said. "And that you claim to love me."

"How does he know? We acted like we always have in there," John said. "And I do love you. I'm not just claiming it."

"I could tell by the way he looked at us," Sherlock said. "He once said something to me about this kind of business . . . right after we met. His eyes were smug, like he'd been proven right." He glanced over. "Is it a problem for you that he knows?"

"Of course not. It was my idea to straight up tell him in the first place," John said. 

Sherlock just smiled. "Do you want to get lunch or head home?" he asked.

"Let's head home, I'm not really hungry right now."

"All right," Sherlock said. They walked on a bit. "I'm glad you came with me today. I wish you never had to go to the surgery, even though I understand why you do."

John stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I love you, and even though you love me, you have to admit being with me 24-7 would get very annoying," he said. "No cigarettes...and imagine how much I would make you eat," he smiled. 

"That's probably true," Sherlock said. "How about if you just agree to always be around whenever I want and when you get to be too much, I'll send you away for a little -- I don't know, you can go get milk or something. Would that be doable?" He turned his head and smiled a little. 

"Well, we'll see," John smiled.

When they got home, Sherlock then sent an email to the client to arrange a meeting. "I don't want him coming to the flat," he said to John. "And perhaps you shouldn't put this one on the blog."

"I wasn't planning on publishing this one. I'm just going to keep notes for myself."

"All right," Sherlock said. He sent a text to the client, and they both worked on their notes for a while. A few hours later, they nipped out to meet the client, whose reaction to the news that his wife was not missing -- but was not interested in sharing her whereabouts or coming back to him -- was exactly what Sherlock had expected to see: anger and then a quick attempt to pretend that he was satisfied just knowing she was safe. He paid them and they set off, but not before Sherlock made very clear that the police had been informed of the man's 'concern' and his wife's desires. Hopefully, the man would leave well enough alone. As they headed back, Sherlock realised John hadn't really had much to eat today. "Do you want to get dinner or take something back?" he asked.

"Yeah," John nodded. "I'm pretty hungry, actually."

"Should we get Chinese or what? Whatever you want," Sherlock asked. "I just want you to be happy, because, well . . .you know."

"Chinese is perfect. Let's take it home," John said.

Sherlock smiled and they headed for the Chinese, taking their food up to the flat. He scooped out some food on a plate and handed it to John. "You can find a film or something to watch, while I get the drinks," he said, before doing his own plate and then opening a bottle of wine.

John took his plate to the sofa and started flipping through the channels for something good to watch, glancing at Sherlock in the kitchen every time he changed the channel. He couldn't help smiling softly to himself. 

Sherlock tried to balance his fork and plate on his arm, while grasping the two wine glasses in the other. "Here," he said a little impatiently, worrying he'd drop the glass before John took it. He didn't, though, so he sat down in his chair. "What'd you choose?" he asked John, taking a sip before tucking into his food.

"I'm still looking," John said, glancing over at him. He sounded annoyed before but John didn't know why. "Don't you want to sit over here with me?"

Without looking up, Sherlock said, "No, this is fine." He ate a few more bites and then took a drink. "Food okay?" he asked.

John stopped the telly on the news, nodding. "Yeah, it's good," he said, not looking at Sherlock again. He mixed his food around more than he ate it.

"Choose something else," Sherlock said. "I'd hate to see something about our client's wife going missing. Isn't there a silly film you like?"

"Not on the telly," John said, flipping through again.

"We can put a DVD in if you'd like," Sherlock said. "Whatever you want," he said again.

John squeezed his fork for a moment before taking a deep breath. "It really doesn't matter, Sherlock." He paused on a documentary about bees. He glanced at Sherlock and put the remote down. "This works."

"Lovely," Sherlock said. "I've watched this before." He looked over at John and smiled. "I'm having a nice dinner with you," he added with a little wink.

John flushed lightly even as his brows furrowed. "Thought you were angry," he admitted. 

"Of course not," Sherlock said. "I've liked every part of today."

John hummed softly, going back to eating and watching the documentary. He was still confused. He thought getting together would be more dramatic, something with more finality than just...being different now. Sherlock was very confusing. 

When Sherlock finished, he took his plate to the kitchen and put the kettle on. He brought back the bottle of wine and set it on the table and then took John's plate. He did the washing up and then returned with the tea and a small plate of biscuits. "Here you go," he said, smiling a bit stupidly, before he sat down again. 

"Sherlock, you don't have to keep doing this," he said.

Sherlock's smile wilted a little. "I'm not doing anything, John," he said quietly. "I'm just trying to be thoughtful because I love you. Am I ruining things? I'm trying not to behave like a insane person -- I was just bringing you tea and biscuits . . ."

"I just meant...I don't need special treatment," he said. "You're not ruining anything."

"This isn't special treatment, John," Sherlock said, looking forward at the television and holding the hot cup up to his face to feel the vapour on his skin. "This is just how I treat people I love which you've never seen before because it's a relatively unusual event. Stop being so fussy, okay?" He glanced over and tried to give John a smile from behind his mug.

John flushed lightly. "I'm sorry. I just...I don't know what to do."

"Yes, you do, John," Sherlock said. "Have your tea and biscuits and finish the film." He made a little smile and got up and moved over to the sofa. "There's not much more of this left and I'll probably being giving you a quiz afterwards, so be sure to pay attention." He smiled again and turned his head to the television.

John debated reaching over to hold Sherlock's hand. Despite the confessions of love, he didn't feel like this would be a physical relationship. He didn't even know if Sherlock would want that. He watched the film, trying to focus.

When the film finished, Sherlock tipped the rest of his cold tea into his mouth and stood up. "I'd like to finish my notes," he said, going to the kitchen to refill his mug. "You can choose something else to watch if you want," he said as he moved to his desk.

"I'll just work on the blog for a bit," he said. He moved to his chair and pulled his computer into his lap to start working.

Sherlock began typing. He was quite enjoying himself today -- solved a case, had a nice dinner, was doing some work -- all of it with John. With whom he was happy to spend every moment of the day and night. He stole a glance over at John, who didn't look quite as contented as Sherlock felt. He wondered why.


	8. Sherlock And John Together

Sherlock finished up but stayed at his desk with his laptop open, sneaking looks over at John. Then he reached for his phone.

_Was what we did today a date? SH_

John fished out his phone, pausing half way to his pocket. What if it was Nick? Would Sherlock be upset that he's answering? No, John wasn't going to be rude just to make Sherlock happy. He hardly knew what they even were right now! He took out his phone and opened the message. He looked up at Sherlock who seemed very keen on not looking at John. Hmm. John looked back down at his phone. 

_Our night at Angelo's was a date. Our dinner and a movie tonight was a lazy date. -JW_

He smiled down at the phone. If Sherlock looked over, he would see John was joking. 

_I was the only one on a date last night. The candle was on my side of the table. SH_

_Seems a bit rude to have left me out of it after I told you how much I love you. -JW_

_You should have mentioned that before the dinner. I did. SH_

_Hmm. Sounds like you owe me a date, then. -JW_

_We'll see. Can I ask a question about so-called 'lazy dates'? SH_

John looked up at him and couldn't believe they were doing this in the same room. 

_Sure. -JW_

_Generally dates end with a good night kiss. Do 'lazy dates' include anything along those lines? SH_

John smiled wide at his phone, bringing his hand up to hide it until he could compose himself a bit and answer back. 

_They do. -JW_

_Good night kisses usually occur when someone walks a date to their door. The problem is, of course, that neither of us needs to walk the other anywhere since we both live here in the flat where we already are. This leaves us with a bit of a tricky situation. SH_

_How do you suggest we fix that? -JW_

_We have a few options. Would you consider tonight, lazy or not, our first date? Because first date behaviour often differs from the behaviour of people who know each other quite well already. I'd say we know each other quite well. Would you agree? SH_

_Yes, I would agree. -JW_

Sherlock hadn't looked up since they'd been texting. He knew he'd see immediately how John felt about things if only he could see his face. But perhaps he was too afraid of seeing a reaction he didn't want to see. He thought carefully about his next reply.

_We could -- if you were interested -- continue this conversation in my room. SH_

"Yes please," John said softly, putting his phone down on the arm of his chair. 

"You sure?" Sherlock asked, setting his phone down as well.

John stood up, staying close to his chair. "I'm sure."

Sherlock closed his laptop and stood up. "Come on then," he said, smiling, and headed towards his room.

John smiled and closed his laptop, getting up and following Sherlock quickly. His stomach rolled nervously.

Sherlock stepped into his room but stopped, waiting for John to come in. When he did, Sherlock shut the door and crowded John against it. "I'm going to kiss you now," he said, his face just an inch from John's.

John's whole body flushed pleasantly. He brought his hands up, one on Sherlock's cheek and the other on his neck and jaw. "Yes please," he murmured.

Sherlock crashed into John's mouth, kissing him hard and long. His hands slid up John's body and then around his back before he moved into him, pressing him against the door. John's hand on Sherlock's neck curled around to bury into his hair as they kissed. The other moved away from his cheek and settled on Sherlock's hip, tugging to keep him very close. Sherlock's mouth moved across John's face, taking in the taste of his skin, before dropping to suck hard on his neck. A small noise escaped from his throat as he began to rock himself gently against John's body.

"God Sherlock...I didn't think...I didn't know..." John rambled, unable to get his words straight. He clutched at Sherlock so he wouldn't stop anything he was doing. John's own hands pushed up into Sherlock's shirt, touching his bare skin, his chest and stomach and sides. 

"It's okay, John," Sherlock mumbled. "We know now . . ." He kissed him hard again and then started to pull him back towards the bed. 

John hummed his approval, unwilling to break the kiss to answer. He clutched at Sherlock, moving with him and keeping close.

Sherlock turned and pushed John down onto the bed. He stood back and started to unbutton his shirt, watching John as he did. "Still okay with all this?" he asked.

John pulled his own shirt over his head. He nodded. "I am very okay with this," he said, biting his lip as he watched Sherlock's hands work. 

"Good," Sherlock said, smiling. He leaned down over John, kissing him again as he pushed him flat on the bed. He crawled up over him, continuing the kiss as he let one hand roam up and down John's bare chest. John kissed him hard, licking into his mouth to deepen the kiss, to taste him. Sherlock let his hand move down John's stomach and rest on his waistband. He flicked open the button of his trousers and stopped, opening his eyes to look at John's face. He smiled and then dropped to kiss him again, as he pulled on the zip and slipped his hand inside to palm John's through his pants.

John groaned into the kiss, bucking up lightly. "You too..." he managed, kissing Sherlock again as he busied his own hands with getting into Sherlock's trousers. 

"No one's stopping you," Sherlock said. He shifted himself a little to give John easier access. He moved his hand inside John's boxers and began stroking his hardening cock. "That's good," he mumbled as he kissed him again.

"So bloody tall," he grumbled, smiling up at Sherlock as he finally got his fingers around Sherlock's cock. He stroked steadily, kissing Sherlock's neck. 

"Fuck," Sherlock exhaled loudly. His grip tightened a little and his hips began to rock against John's hand.

"You feel so good...can't wait to see you," John said, biting softly at the nape of Sherlock's neck. He always wore his scarf...John sucked hard to leave a mark. 

"Take off the rest of your clothes," Sherlock said, starting to pull off John's trousers.

John shifted to push his clothes off. "You too, love," he said, looking up at Sherlock. He smiled softly at the bruise on Sherlock's neck. 

Sherlock dropped onto the bed and quickly pushed his trousers off his body. He rolled over on top of John. "We're naked, John Watson," he said, smiling.

"Together. And touching," John said. He leaned up and kissed Sherlock's mouth. 

Sherlock reached down and started to slowly stroke John again. "I like this," he mumbled a bit stupidly.

"Me too," John murmured, matching his pace to Sherlock's. "We can do more...if you want."

"Oh, I am far from done with you, John," Sherlock said, smiling. He moved down John's chest and nuzzled one of his nipples.

John sighed in pleasure, squirming lightly. "Can I taste you?" he asked, biting his lip as his cheeks flushed lightly. 

Sherlock looked up. "If you want to," he said, trying not to let on that he really, really wanted John to want to.

"I do," John nodded, shifting to get on top of Sherlock. He kissed Sherlock's mouth once more before making his way down slowly. He was going to savour every inch.

Sherlock let himself sink into the bed, taking deep breaths as he concentrated on every touch of John's mouth on his skin. He lifted one hand over his head and lay the other one on John's shoulder. "It feels nice," he mumbled.

John kissed over Sherlock's nipples, over his chest and down his belly. "You're so sexy..." he murmured as he moved lower. His hand was already stroking Sherlock's cock. When he was level with it, he licked up the shaft and around the head, sucking just on that for a moment before taking Sherlock into his mouth. 

"John," Sherlock exhaled, lifting his head slightly off the bed to look down. It felt so good -- like he'd forgotten every memory of any kind of sexual pleasure and now John was showing it all to him for the first time. "God," he mumbled, dropping his head back down and covering his face with one hand.

John moved his hand on the base and took was he could into his mouth, moaning softly around the shaft as he moved and looked up at Sherlock. His free hand moved over Sherlock's thigh and down to his balls, massaging lightly. Sherlock's body was feeling overwhelmed with all the good feelings. He writhed on the bed, reaching down to hold John's head in his hand. John leaned into his hand a bit, hollowing his cheeks and swallowing lightly around the head of his cock.

"John," Sherlock called out again. He sat up a little and looked down the bed. "You're good at that," he said smiling and trying to get a little control over his breathing.

John lifted off and smiled. "Surprised?" he asked.

"I am," Sherlock said. "Pleasantly." He felt a little calmer and lay back down again.

John smiled and went back to sucking on Sherlock's cock, humming softly around the shaft.

Sherlock closed his eyes and let himself go -- his hips rocked gently with John's movement. Then he realised he was too close to the edge. He pushed himself up and pulled on John, bringing them both to their knees facing each other. He kissed John's mouth hard and smiled and then shifted so John was lying down. He moved to John's side, gazing down at his face as he softly grazed his fingertips up and down John's chest. "I like looking at you," he whispered then he leaned down and lightly covered John's cock with kisses and licks.

"I like looking at you too," he moaned softly, reaching down to stroke his hair.

Sherlock held John's cock and he sucked it into his mouth. He swirled his tongue and then began moving up and down it, tasting John for the first time.

"Fuck..." John sighed, moaning as he writhed on the bed a bit, trying to keep still under Sherlock.

"Good," Sherlock mumbled as he lifted up and teased the head with his tongue. He reached down with one hand to grip the soft meat of John's inner thigh.

John jerked a bit, giggling and covering his mouth. "Sorry...m'ticklish," he mumbled, a bit embarrassed as he shifted into Sherlock's mouth. He reached his hand out and moved a bit of his focus to touching Sherlock's cock again. The way he was sitting at John's side made it easy. Sherlock let out a small, low moan from deep in his throat when John touched him again. His hips rocked with John's touch as he continued to suck John, moving his hand more between John's legs, holding his balls, teasing him.

"Sherlock...fuck," John moaned loudly, the vibrations of his moaning moving right through John's cock. He squeezed lightly and stroked Sherlock faster, eager to feel it again.

Sherlock's body was moving fast now with everything going on. His head bobbed over John's lap and his hips reacted to John's hand. He lifted up and quickly said, "I'm not going to last," before turning his attention back to John's cock.

"M'close...I'm gonna come..." John panted, writhing under Sherlock as he moved his hand faster.

The words were too much for Sherlock. His head jerked back and he could feel his orgasm pass through him. He desperately tried to use his hand on John as the rest of his body responded naturally to the intensity of the feeling. When Sherlock's mouth was off, John let go and came, moaning Sherlock's name as he writhed, pushing into Sherlock's hand.

"Fuck," Sherlock exhaled, letting his body drop onto the bed. He took a few deep breaths and then shifted around so he could see John's face. "That was good," he said, still trying to calm himself down.

John nodded. "That was incredible," he agreed.

Sherlock lay flat on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. "I knew it would be . . . when I knew I loved you, I knew this bit would be good," he said quietly. "Are you thinking that you still love me?" he asked.

John leaned over and kissed his cheek, then looped his arm into Sherlock's and cuddled close to him. "Yeah, I do still love you," he said. 

"Good," Sherlock said. "Because I still love you as well." They lay quietly for a few moments as Sherlock felt his whole body relaxing. He felt his head tip slightly to the side and then turned in sharply. "I think I'm falling asleep, John. Should we get into the bed properly?"

"Okay. But I want to sleep close still," John said. He shifted and got up. "Maybe we should clean up a bit first."

Sherlock looked at their bodies. "Right," he said, pushing himself up off the bed. "I'll go clean myself up and you can get your pajamas if you want." He moved into the bathroom, using a wet flannel on his belly and thighs. He got two glasses of water and came back to the bedroom. He slipped his pajama bottoms on and then got into the bed, rubbing his legs together to warm up a little.

John went into the bathroom next and cleaned up a bit before going to his room for a new undershirt and boxers. He grabbed his phone and, as he was padding into Sherlock's room again, it went off. John opened the message as he climbed into bed, glancing over at Sherlock.

"Nick wants to go out for drinks..." he said.

Sherlock's stomach went a little funny. "Oh?" he asked, trying to sound like his stomach hadn't gone funny.

John typed back a quick response, slouching down so that Sherlock could easily see what he was sending back.

_Can't tonight. Have plans with my boyfriend. -JW_

Sherlock was watching John's phone but was trying not to think too much.

_Sherlock? Nice! Maybe next time then. -N_

_Okay. See you. -JW_

Sherlock took a little breath. "You don't have to do that," he said. "I mean . . . I, well, we'll have to figure out how I can be more normal, I guess."

John put his phone on the bedside table and lay down, tugging Sherlock close as he covered then up. "Just think of my friends like your experiments," he said. "I like seeing them, but I love you."

"That analogy doesn't really work for me," Sherlock said. "I never feel like shoving my experiments against the wall, but I kind of felt that way about him."

"I feel like shoving them against the wall. Sometimes," John smiled.

"No, you don't," Sherlock said. "And even if you do, you know what I mean . . ." He pushed himself up onto his elbow and looked at John's face. "Are you sure it won't work if you just stay here with me all the time unless I want to be alone and then I can be alone until I want you to come back and be with me all the time?" he asked.

"That definitely will not work," John said. He touched Sherlock's cheek lightly.

"I wish it would, John," Sherlock said. "But I'm not stupid. I know I have to behave like an adult, even if I don't want to." He smiled. "But you must tell me if you change your mind . . . if it's him or someone else or even just that you're tired of me, you'll have to tell me because I'm not good at knowing these things."

"That goes for you as well. If you get bored of me...or whatever..." he trailed of as his mouth twitched into a smile.

"Even on cases?" Sherlock said. "So if I'm bored of your irrelevant questions, I'm just supposed to tell you and you won't get cross, because you usually get cross, John." He reached over and pinched John's arm lightly.

"You know what I mean," John said, swatting his hand away.

"I know," Sherlock said, snuggling down a bit. "But I'm different, John. I know that's not always a good thing, but it does mean that I know this is right. I'm not going to change my mind."

"Me too," John said. "I mean, I won't either." He knew Sherlock wouldn't believe him, but he knew what he felt.

Sherlock yawned a little. "It's not that late really," he said. "Do you want to put a film in or something?"

"No, I don't want to get out of bed again. Unless you want to bring the laptop?" John asked, smiling.

"I need a cup of tea, I think," Sherlock said. "So yes, I'll get the laptop, you lazy person." He gave him a quick kiss and got up. "Do you want tea as well?" he asked at the door.

"Well, if you're making some," John grinned.

Sherlock smiled and went out to the kitchen. He clicked on the kettle and retrieved the laptop, which he brought into the bedroom. "Choose something I won't hate," he said and went back to make the tea. He put a few biscuits on a plate and brought that in. "Minimise the amount of crumbs in the bed, please," he said, smiling.

When John found an old movie about a serial killer, John pulled up a picture of himself on the screen. "That's the only thing I found matching your demands," he smiled.

Sherlock laughed and then pulled the laptop onto his laptop. "Yes, this'll do just fine for me," he said. "I'll stare at it while you're at work, so I don't forget what you look like." Then he moved the laptop to in between them. "However, the plotline is a little . . . dull. Maybe something else for the film?"

John grinned and closed the window to reveal the film. "I already found one," he said.

Sherlock looked over at the screen. "I approve your choice," he said. He took a sip of tea and snuggled down to watch the laptop. After a few moments, he said, "Do you mind if I turn off the lamp?"

"Not at all," John said.

Sherlock leaned up and turned off the light. He finished his tea and set the mug on the table. "I know you like going out, but I like this," he said, sliding a bit down in the bed and pressing his face into the pillow.

John smiled. "I like this, too." He combed his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock closed his eyes. "Will you be angry if I fall asleep?" he asked.

John kept petting Sherlock's hair. "No, I won't be angry," he murmured. He settled down more comfortably himself. He couldn't see the screen very well but he closed his eyes and listened. 

Sherlock listened to the film, but soon enough those sounds disappeared and instead he listened to John breathing next to him. He thought about how nice it was and reached out a hand to rest on John's chest. This was good. It felt right. He knew that when John went back to the surgery or went out with his friends that it wouldn't feel right, but he'd have to try to make it okay. This was a big thing they'd done, and Sherlock would not do anything that to jeopardise it. He took a deep breath. His body felt calm in a way it hadn't for a very long time.

John dozed off, trying to stay awake but failing. He let himself go to sleep, snoring softly beside Sherlock. He lifted his hand over Sherlock's, holding it softly as they slept.


End file.
